


i will be your lightning rod

by alasse



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 20:11:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2081583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alasse/pseuds/alasse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nate expected a lot of things in his life, but he’d never expected Ray Person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i will be your lightning rod

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in 2011 on lj [here](http://alasse.livejournal.com/132597.html) for yagkyas.

Nate sometimes feels he can split his life into the expected and the unexpected. 

He’d expected to get into a good college; chemistry tripping him up on the way to med school had certainly been unexpected. He’d expected the Marine Corps to be his _agōgē_ , to make him a warrior; he hadn’t expected to end up a reluctant one. He’d expected to serve with good men, men who were the best, men who he’d learn to love; realizing he loved them far more than he loved the Corps had been unexpected, if not unwelcome.

And when it was all over, he’d expected to meet a girl, marry, have kids… more than anything, he’d never expected Ray Person.

+++

“Fucking christ, sir, they let you run a platoon with _that_ mouth? Are they _trying_ to get us all killed?”

“Person…”

“It’s okay, Gunny. I’m fairly certain our commanders don’t have an intentional policy to kill their soldiers, but even if they do, Corporal, you’re a Recon Marine. I’m certain you’ll make do.”

“Huh. You’re kinda awesome.” 

“ _Person_ …”

“Right, Gunny. Uh, sorry, sir, nice to meet you. Welcome, and shit.”

“Hmm.”

“Yeah, that was Corporal Ray Person. Welcome to Bravo 2, Lieutenant.”

+++

Nate shoots up from the bed, a shout dying in his throat. Something woke him up, something unexpected. He looks around the dark room, catalogues and dismisses threats automatically. A quick glance at the clock on the bedside table tells him it’s almost five in the morning - his alarm would’ve sounded in thirty more minutes. As his breath slows, Nate thinks that maybe it was just another nightmare he can’t remember, maybe it’s just more of the aftermath.

And then the knocking starts up again. It’s someone at the door.

Nate untangles himself from the sheets, slips his feet into the slippers he left by the bed and makes his way out of the bedroom, wondering who the hell it can be. He can’t think of a single person who’d show up unannounced at his house before five in the morning. Once he opens the door, however, he thinks he ought to have known.

“Ray?”

“Hey, LT! Morning! Sorry about the hour, but, y’know, cheapest flight out and all -- gotta take our breaks were we find them, right?” 

Nate blinks. Ray Person is still standing at his door. “Uh, Ray… what are you doing here?”

Ray raises his eyebrows, as if he’s honestly _surprised_ that his former CO wasn’t expecting a random visit at the crack of dawn. “Dropping by, sir. Y’know, how you said in your paddle party and the email you sent, that we were all welcome to drop by whenever, and, well, I’d always wanted to check out Cambridge…”

“Right, yeah,” Nate interrupts, before Ray can get going. “I mean, of course you’re welcome, but why at five -- you know what? Never mind. Come in.”

Ray steps inside, dropping his duffel next to the door, and he looks around, sharp brown eyes darting around to take everything in. Once a Recon Marine, always a Recon Marine, Nate muses silently. When Ray’s eyes finally end up on Nate again, they sweep him over, pausing on his hair, which is growing out, on the bags under his eyes, and Nate feels more _seen_ than he has in a long time. It’s -- unsettling. Not unwelcome, but unsettling. 

“Will the couch be okay? It’s comfortable,” Nate offers, breaking the silence.

“Anything’s better than a hole in the ground, LT,” Ray replies with a wry grin, waggling his eyebrows. 

Nate smiles back, because, well, _yeah_. He gets a couple of blankets out of his closet, grabs one of the pillows he doesn’t use, and offers the bundle to Ray. 

“Thanks, sir,” he says.

“Nate.”

“Nate,” Ray echoes quietly, giving him a smaller smile, one that feels far more intimate. Nate can’t help but smile back. “You, uh -- going back to sleep?” 

“I don’t think so. My alarm’s about to go off, really, so I think I’ll just head for my morning run a little early,” Nate tells him.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.”

+

Running with Ray takes back Nate to running with his platoon in the early mornings. Most of the other CO’s, except Patterson, looked at him like he was nuts for taking the time to exercise with his platoon. But it was so important, for Nate, that his men know they could count on him, to lead by example. 

Ray was never as intense about fitness as Rudy or Manimal, but he always kept pace, taking turns between running next to Brad, Walt, or Nate himself, sometimes. He lets Nate set the rhythm, today, and they do his usual hour and twenty, Ray following where Nate leads automatically. It’s peaceful, in a way Nate had forgotten it could be. The steady pounding of feet next to him, the tempo of Ray’s breathing, his cracks about the people they happen to meet out on the street (“What the fuck are they doing up, man? Like, seriously, watering your fucking gardenia’s at five thirty in the morning is not life or death.” “Christ that is one ugly dog. Like, Trombley’s ass-crack ugly. I would _never_ wake up to feed him, that’s just prolonging his miserable existence, man, its cruel.”) -- it relaxes something inside Nate that’s been tense for a long time, maybe since the morning in Mathilda before they finally crossed the border into Iraq. 

He’s suddenly invaded by the certainty that he could do this again. That he’d like to do it forever, maybe, run besides Ray. Feel effortlessly understood, feel like he doesn’t have to slow down or explain or make allowances -- that he can just be. 

“Want to stop for some water or juice?” Nate asks, when they’re winding down, pointing at the coffee shop that’s open since six in the morning. He gets along pretty well with the baristas, actually, who never stop ribbing him for running so early.

Ray looks at where Nate’s pointing. “Fuck that, man, I want some November Juliet. C’me on, my treat.” He pats down his shorts, and grimaces. “Actually, your treat, I totally left my wallet back at your place.”

Nate rolls his eyes. 

“Morning, Anna,” Nate greets the barista, when they walk in.

“Hey, Nate! Still waking up at five even though you have _no legitimate reason_ to do so? Get you your usual?”

“Still, and, yeah, thank you,” Nate smiles. “What do you want, Ray?”

“I’ll take a regular -- biggest one you got,” Ray tells Anna. “I had to wake up at an ungodly fucking hour to visit someone, and then, they took me out running. At five in the morning, man, what the fuck? That shit ain’t right.”

Anna laughs, and starts making their coffee, clearly charmed.

“ _I_ woke you up? Who’s the one who got in _before_ five in the morning in the first place, just ‘cause you wanted a cheap flight? And unannounced, I might add.”

“Listen, LT, I’m just a lowly ex-grunt. I’m not an officer and shit, who can, like, pay first class and whatever,” Ray rebuts, mock-wounded. “And what are you talking about, unannounced? Okay, Anna,” he turns to Anna, who’s been following their conversation while she makes Nate’s triple-shot cappuccino, “if someone sends an email with their address that says ‘you’re welcome to stop by whenever you like’, that’s totally an open invitation, right? Like, no announcement needed, yeah?” Anna glances at Nate before nodding decisively, and, god, she’s really enjoying this, he can tell. “See? You put it out there, man, you gotta live with the consequences,” Ray tells Nate. 

When their coffees are ready, Anna passes them over the bar, and she considers Nate for a moment. “You know? You look happier today than I’ve ever seen you. You should let Ray stick around.”

“Hell yeah he should let me stick around. I am _quintessential_ , LT, and don’t you forget it,” Ray puts in, smiling cheekily for Anna’s benefit, but when he meets Nate’s eyes, Nate can tell he’s surprised, and pleased.

Once they’re walking back to Nate’s place, sipping their coffee, Ray says, “So, I know you’re a total nerd and shit, but I think you should skip classes today, hang out with me.”

And Nate thinks about it. Thinks about having to get dressed and go to one of his Foreign Policy classes, dealing with his classmates; thinks about staying with Ray instead, talking, laughing, feeling like he’s not crazy. 

“Okay.”

It’s an easy decision, in the end.

+

They stay in Nate’s apartment, and Ray cooks Nate breakfast. 

It should surprise Nate, really, but it doesn’t, because he remembers how Ray always took care of people, somehow -- singing random songs to cheer up Brad, humping Walt’s head, rambling about everything and nothing when all of them were far too close to breaking… Just, being Ray. Letting them count on the fact that he’d always _be_ Ray. 

After breakfast, Ray puts on _Die Hard_ and they sack out on the couch, napping intermittently, Ray making Nate laugh out loud every once in a while like he hasn’t laughed since before OCS. 

When the movie’s over, Ray switches the TV back to regular cable, and grimaces when he sees Fox News is on -- the anchor is talking about Iraq. They both listen for a few seconds, because it’s like a car crash, they can’t _not_.

“Shit, man. I’d rather they not talk about it at all, if they’re gonna spew that bullshit,” Ray says, after a moment.

“No, Ray. They _should_ talk about it. They have to -- it’s not fair, not to us as a country, not to our armed forces, that they don’t talk about it. It’s not right, that most people are so dissociated from the war, that they don’t know, or, worse, don’t care…”

Ray looks at him with raised eyebrows. “Uh, sore spot there, LT?”

Nate shrugs. “Not sore, exactly. It’s just -- it’s frustrating. That people talk about what the soldiers _should_ be doing over there, that policy-makers go on and on about how things _ought_ to be, but nobody’s even bothering to understand how things _are_ , first. Nobody’s listening to the people who’ve actually been there, who know.”

Ray’s quiet for a moment, and then he says, “So maybe you should write about it.” Nate looks up, surprised, and Ray shrugs. “Reporter did, right? And he did okay, even though the guy wrote for fucking Rolling Stone, man, it doesn’t get more lame than that.”

Nate huffs out a laugh. “And, what, you think a pussy liberal Classics major can do better?”

Ray smiles at the epithet, but his eyes are completely serious when they meet Nate’s. “No. I think _you_ can do better.”

And there it is again, that sense of unexpected peace. Of comfort. Like when he was freaking out about Godfather’s complete lack of information, and Ray asked about J Lo. Or when he wanted to wring Schwetje’s neck because he had no clue how to navigate their platoon and Ray started singing Avril Lavigne. When Nate wanted to be anything but an officer just so he could comfort Brad, tell him to explode that ordinance, but he couldn’t, because of all people, Nate couldn’t lose it, couldn’t rant and rave… and Ray was there, being the glue, handing Brad coffee, making Walt laugh. Making Nate smile.

Nate is full of understanding, suddenly, and he knows Ray is bound to see it, to see _Nate_. He glances down, tries to regain his composure, but he feels Ray come closer, feels a hand on the back of his neck.

“Nate.”

He glances up again, drawn to Ray’s eyes like a magnet, and Ray leans close, closer, until he’s kissing Nate. It’s soft and right and not at all like Nate would’ve expected Ray Person to kiss, but it works.

They part, and Nate can’t believe it, not really, that Ray wanted this, that Ray wants _him_.

“Really?” he can’t hep but ask.

Ray shakes his head. “You’re kinda slow, LT. I had a crush on you from day one. Brad made fun of me the whole time, and Gunny glared at me like you were his virgin daughter and I was about to rape you or something.”

Nate laughs, a soft, delighted laugh, and kisses Ray again.

“So, can I stay until the weekend, then?” Ray asks, between kisses.

“Stay forever,” Nate tells him, and means it.

+++

“ _Person_? Really, sir?”

“What can I say, Brad? It just… works.”

“It works. You and that trash-talking, whisky-tango retard work?”

“Aw, Brad, don’t lie -- you love your pal Ray-Ray. Your life is bereft without me. You probably cry yourself to sleep and shit, and the Royal Marines think the Iceman is a total pussy, but it’s just ‘cause you miss me so bad.”

“Ray, if you don’t hang up the phone now…”

“Yeah, whatever, maiming, mutilation. I actually just wanted to ask Nate if pasta’s okay for dinner.”

“It’s perfect, Ray, thanks.”

“Cool. Hangin’ up, now, Bradley, don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

“… really?”

“He -- he makes me happy.”

“Fine. Then I guess I won’t fly back to strong-arm you into a lobotomy, sir. If anyone can handle him, it’s you, I suppose.”

“Thank you, Brad. Stay safe, okay? And come by for a visit when you get some leave.”

“Will do.”

+++

Nate sometimes feels that he can split his life into the expected and the unexpected. And, most of the time? It’s the unexpected he’s happiest about. 


End file.
